


Exploring

by CuriosityRedux



Series: Dragon Drabbles Modern [11]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hiccstrid - Freeform, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 04:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriosityRedux/pseuds/CuriosityRedux
Summary: Hiccup could get used to Astrid sneaking in his window.





	Exploring

**Exploring**

**-**

He’s never been an avid watcher of chick flicks, but he’s pretty sure this is supposed to be the other way around. The first little clacking sound at his window was written off as an acorn falling from the tree outside. The second and third, however, has Toothless scrambling to his paws and coughing a low bark from his bed in the closet. 

Hiccup twists and trips off the bed, nearly falling to the floor in his efforts. Shoving his window open with a crackling  _screech_ , he squints into the dark and blearily runs a hand through his wild hair. 

“Astrid?” he exclaims, whispering as loud as possible without interrupting his dad’s steady snore. 

Waving with both hands in the backyard below, his girlfriend grins and steps closer to the side of the house. “I want to sleep with you!” she calls up, and he’s not sure whether her double entendre is intended or not. 

His sleep-addled brain isn’t quite capable of summoning a logical reply, so the first answer to jump to his lips is– “I’m in my boxers!” Glancing around his room in a panic, he searches for a nearby t-shirt or anything incriminating. He doesn’t need another situation like last summer when Snot left his girly mags on Hiccup’s desk for his dad to find. 

If anything, the mischief in her features only sharpens. “Well, I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I? It’s about time we see each other half naked.” She’s unfairly covered, though, wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a baggy 5K t-shirt. Her sneakers look like they were thrown on in a hurry, and her hair is pulled up in a giant golden ball atop her head. “My parents are still up fighting,” she explains, a little bit of a grimace stealing into her smile. “I need some peace and quiet.”

Of course, how is he supposed to tell her no? It’s hard enough not getting dazed by the halo of her frame cast by the neighbor’s porch lights. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

“No need.” 

And then with a strength and nimbleness that makes her years of gymnastics no secret, she’s climbing the rope to his old tire swing and pulling herself into their tree. Shaking his head, he scoffs and watches her navigate branches until she’s crawling fifteen feet above the ground. He hops back and leans against the wall so she can grab ahold of his window sill and pull herself inside. 

“Y’know, the back door also works, Tarzan.” Hiccup holds a hand out to help her steady herself, but she doesn’t need it. She shuts the window and wipes her hands on her butt.

Grinning smugly, she gives him a look-over that makes him remember his state of undress. “And give you time to put on clothes? No way.” 

He blushes despite himself and stretches an embarrassed arm across his chest. She turns her attention to Toothless, who’s circling her legs with excitement. It shouldn’t feel weird having her in his room– she’s seen it dozens of times before– but it does. In the dark and the quiet, there’s an added tone of misbehavior that makes it all seem taboo. 

“Do you– um– need anything?” He sits on the edge of his bed so he can self consciously tuck his left leg beneath his right knee. 

She quirks her mouth aside in a negative. Sweeps her gaze around the room as she kicks off her shoes. “Just a pillow and the left side.”

He shifts and pulls the blankets back, twisting to his side. She digs her phone and keys out of her pocket. Sets them on his desk. Then she’s hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her shorts and tugging them downwards. She gets them halfway down her thighs before pausing and realizing he’s gaping. 

“Is this… not okay?” she asks stiltedly, still bent in half. It’s almost a relief– he was beginning to theink he was the only one capable of bashfulness. 

“Yes! I mean– no. Uh.” His heart pounds in his chest, so loud he can hear it roaring in his ears. “It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Astrid continues undressing, stepping out of her shorts a little slower than before. She lifts a brow at him. “I did say it was about time we saw _each other_  half naked.”

“Uh-huh.” She’s reaching beneath her t-shirt to unclasp her bra. Her panties are gray cotton and his mouth feels dry. 

By some inherent talent he’ll never understand, she manages to pull a pink bra out from one sleeve and drop it next to her pile of things on the floor. Crawling onto the bed, she steals one of his pillows for herself and stretches out next to him. He can just barely make out a ring of blue around her wide pupils. Whisps of blonde hair frame her face. 

“This is new,” she whispers. 

He hopes she can’t hear the way his voice cracks a little when he agrees. She shuts her eyes, and he wonders at her unfair beauty while she takes slow, deep breaths. 

It still baffles him that the most gorgeous girl in the world somehow took an interest in him. Recalled his name when they ran into each other at the same hospital gym. He’s not much– tall but skinny, with half a calf missing and an almost obnoxious love for physics. She’s student council president, letterman extraordinaire, and more than one nomination has been made for homecoming court. In a reasonable universe, it makes no sense that she’s in his bed, wearing hardly enough clothing to be considered dressed. He wants to reach out and touch her, but he’s sort of convinced her image will pop like a dreamy bubble. 

Astrid sighs, wriggling closer. She smells like clean laundry and IcyHot. When she rolls over, he can feel her warmth through her t-shirt, and she backs into him too quickly for him to stammer out an objection. 

“Gods–! Hiccup!” She pushes up on her elbows, and he pulls his hips back as far as he can. 

“I’m  _sorry_ , he hisses, glancing at the door to remind her of his dad’s nearness. Her brows are high with accusation. “You took off your pants in front of me!”

“Remind me not to bring you to the family lake house,” she grumbles, settling back down. “Odin only knows how you’d handle my bikini.”

Well, now he’s  _obviously_  going to wonder. He mutters another apology into her hair, but she presses back against him anyways. He’s pretty sure that if his arousal bothers her, she’ll say so. 

He was half asleep when she first snuck into his room, but now he’s wide awake. Too much adrenaline in his blood, too vivid a picture of his girlfriend’s panties burned into his retinas. He stares over her head, eyes fixed on Toothless’ tail lolling in the crack of the closet door. As she tries to find a comfortable position, he tries to think about  _anything_  but her toned body prushing over the front of his boxers. Oil changes. Calculus. Physical therapy with a terrifyingly beefy guy named Eret. He’s okay until she takes his arm and wraps it around her, tucking his hand beneath her breasts. 

Hiccup swallows hard, turning his head to groan into the pillow. Don’t think about her body. Don’t think about curves. Don’t think about the last time they were tangled together on her couch and she was straddled across his lap. 

She takes a deep breath and stretches. Arches her back just a little. 

He pulls away, eyes widening. “You’re doing that on purpose!”

In the dimness, he watches her press her lips against a guilty smile. “…Just a little.”

He tries to pant out a scolding allegation, but now she’s deliberately rubbing against him. It leaves him a little stupid. “You… you… minx!”

“It’s neat,” she giggles writhing into him. He can feel her round cheeks swirling backwards experimentally. “I can feel it throbbing.”

Hiccup squeezes his eyes shut. Resisting is futile now. Heat pulses at his groin, making him swell. “You’re killing me, Astrid.”

“Sorry.”

She ceases her movements, but now he’s hard and pressed into the softness of her flesh. Now  _he’s_ the one trying to find a comfortable position. She lies obediently still as he attempts to find a way to hold her to him without prodding her lower back. It’s not so successful. Finally, he takes her hips and drags her upwards, guiding himself into the part of her thighs. 

That is either an awful mistake or the best decision of his life. Her breath hitches. She jolts. Astrid grabs hold of his wrist, almost daring him to move, and then she gives a little squirm. And he realizes this is the worst possible angle, because she bows her back, and he can feel a soft heat that is  _not_  her leg rubbing against him. 

“Oh,” he says. She probably thinks he means  _oh i didn’t mean to_ , but it’s definitely more of a  _oh gods that feels incredible_. His fingers flutter curiously against her side. Running his sandpaper tongue over his bottom lip, he shifts and grinds into her. She makes a light little noise, and he throbs. 

For a few minutes, all thought of sleep jumps out the window she came in. She doesn’t ask and he doesn’t protest, but soon they’re both breathing hard and meeting each other stroke for stroke. She lifts her knee just so, hooking her ankle around his bad leg, and he doesn’t even think to pull it away because  _Thor_  this is clearly necessary. He can feel the give of her hot flesh against his head with every gentle thrust, and his brain swims with thoughts of what could be if those painfully thin layers weren’t between them. 

Her hand gropes behind her searchingly. He nearly bites his tongue when it finds his length and grips him– hesitantly at  first, and then with a firmer squeeze. “Jeez, Astrid–”

She releases him and lifts her head to look over her shoulder. “Did I–”

“No.” He runs his fingertips along her forearm, scared she’ll pull away. “No, I just…” When words fail him, he shakes his head and sighs heavily. “You’re fine.”

Seemingly satisfied, she turns her head back against the pillow. She trails her hand over his erection, but instead of squeezing him again, she finds his wrist. She parts her thighs just enough to slide his hand over her mound. Then she reaches back and takes hold of him once more.  

Hiccup’s not sure which part of this is more arousing– her clumsy, awkward handjob or the fact that he can feel the damp heat of her against his fingers. He can trace her outline, run his longest digit through her warm valley, even blindly grope for that elusive bundle of nerves the guys are always encouraging him to go for. Even his inexperienced fondling has her whimpering, and he’s pretty sure he’s never been as hard as he is with her fingers curled around him. 

Outside, he can hear cars driving by, and his dad’s snoring continues uninterrupted just downstairs. Even so, it feels like it’s just the two of them in the entire world. He drops careless kisses into her neck, trying to learn her like the layout beneath the hood of a car. Her underwear is a frustrating obstacle that makes it difficult to navigate, but even this much feels like euphoria. 

Astrid mumbles his name, and she twists away from reach. At first he thinks he’s done something wrong, but then she’s untangling her legs from the blankets and rolling onto her back. She tugs at his shoulder until he’s holding himself above her, and then her gaze slips down his body. She eases the elastic of his boxers down, and Hiccup’s fingers knot in the sheets by her head. 

Her hand feels cooler than he expected against the hot skin of his cock. He keeps his eyes on her face, too embarrassed for some reason to glance between them.

She wets her lips and gives him a couple of hesitant squeezes. Blinking up to meet his gaze, she swirls her thumb around his sensitive tip and smiles shyly. “Teach me?”

Hiccup can only nod enthusiastically. Bearing his weight on one elbow, he reaches towards his groin. His fingers jump a little when he brushes over her knuckles, but then he wraps his hand around hers and shows her the right grip, the stroke that feels the best. It takes her a minute to coordinate her wrist with his, but soon she’s moving fluidly with him. She keeps glancing from his face to their hands, measuring his pleasure. 

He lets go, allows her to take the lead. She slows at first, uncertain, but then with a flash of determination in her expression, she finds that rhythm again. She takes his hand just as he took hers and pushes it past the hem of her t-shirt. His fingertips graze over the faint rib bones of her rising and falling chest. Then he reaches further, palms the soft flesh of one breast– her hips jerk against his, and a soft noise falls from her mouth.

If he had told himself a year ago how the next twelve months would unfold, it would have seemed like poor fiction. If he’d been told that he’d lose his foot to a car accident, spend months in rehab, meet the most popular girl in school while she was recovering from a sports injury, and then months later be lying in bed with her panting beneath him– he would have laughed. But somehow, impossibly, it’s real. She’s biting her lip and squirming and getting him off while he rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Gods, he’s had plenty of reasons to be mad at the world lately. But maybe if he hadn’t been in the front seat that day, he never would have even seen Astrid’s smile pointed his way.

He drags a clumsy, calloused mechanic’s hand to her other breast, pleased when she arches into him. His thoughts are getting hazy, though– everything is concentrated on the excruciating pulsing of his cock and the warm pressure of her hand around it. A tight twisting begins pulling taut in the pit of his stomach, and he squeezes her a little too hard. 

“Ah, hah– mm, Astrid.” He feels his hips rocking forward to meet her quickening hand. She’s picked up a devastating twist to every pull, and every muscle in his body clenches in time with her movements. Hiccup has to squeeze his eyes shut so he can focus long enough to force the words out. “If you, uh… I’m gonna come.”

His girlfriend’s look of concentration brightens. She beams with pride and excitement, and instead of slowing her ministrations, she holds him a little tighter and lifts her chest so she can tug her shirt up. The implication sends a shiver down his spine, warning him of his rapid approach towards the edge of completion. Even in the dark, even with his shadow covering her, the sight of his hand groping her breast makes him struggle to hold on just a little longer.

And if that makes it difficult, then the way she slips between her thighs to touch herself completely undoes him. He nudges her hands away, holding his length by the base so he can grind into that soft heaven beneath her panties. She gasps his name. He rubs against her soaked underwear. For a brief few moments, he groans hoarsely against her neck and clenches against the storm of ecstasy seizing his body. His release spatters across both of their stomachs, and he catches a glimpse of Astrid’s lips parted in wonder. 

His panting rustles blonde whisps that have come undone, sending them fluttering across her shoulder and jaw. Hiccup presses his forehead into her collarbone for a second, and then risks an unsure glance at her face. 

“Um.” He laughs a little nervously. “Well, you’re definitely invited back for the next slumber party.”

Her smirk is smug, but there’s a strain in her eyes. She lifts her hips, nudging against his still pulsing length. “You should get a towel.”

“A towel. Right.” He pushes back on his knees and doesn’t even bother trying to conceal the survey he takes of her. Her shirt is still shoved above her breasts. Her hands are stretched above her head, fingers flexing and twitching. And the smooth plane of her belly sinks and swells with every heavy breath, gleaming with slightly smeared rivulets of cum. He needs just a minute to burn the image into his eyes so that he won’t ever forget.

“Hiccup?” 

His head snaps up. He lifts his brows. “Hmm?”

Astrid exhales a quiet laugh. “Towel?”

“Shit– sorry!” For a second, he simply shakes his head and crawls to the foot of the bed. Then it hits him that to get a towel from the hallway, he’ll have to attach his prosthesis. A pang of discomfort dampens his high. “Um, can you…” He gestures vaguely over the edge of the mattress– the leg is leaning against the wall on her side. Suddenly it’s hard to meet her gaze. 

But she doesn’t even seem unsettled by the idea of handing her boyfriend his foot. She reaches for it and then sits up to hold it out as best she can without disturbing the mess he’s left on her. It’s a quiet moment of uncomfortable silence as he pulls the sock over his stump and eases the prosthesis on. 

As he stands, tucking himself back into his boxers, she says his name and grabs his attention. He was kind of hoping to go as quickly as possible so she couldn’t see him completely undressed and disfigured. 

But when he turns, she’s smiling. She tilts her head and stares at him with a twinkle of fondness. “Thanks for letting me sleep with you.”

Hiccup chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Not much sleeping to be had yet. But you’re welcome.” He starts to turn, saying, “Be right back.”

“Hurry!” she presses a little teasingly. “We’re not finished!”

He freezes. Glances over his shoulder. Sure enough, her fingers are teasing the edge of her panties. 

If there’s a slight limp to his gait as he scrambles out the door, he doesn’t even notice. 


End file.
